The sound, the look, the atmosphere, the lore. Swollen Teeth are as much a ritual as a performance, summoning primal ferocity in clouds of intrigue with a thundering rumble. Each musical outburst arrives shrouded in mystery, enveloped by a sense of dread, with passion and purpose. Heavy percussion, riffs, punk gang chants, dive bombs, turntables, breakdowns, shrieks, guttural screams, and powerfully unashamed anthemic melodies coalesce in Swollen Teeth. The collective absorbs the raw intensity of the most potent subculture and spits it back with a determined uniqueness. They’ve spent countless hours in the lab, lobbing out occasional missives online like Molotov cocktails. Each of the scattered, chopped up, and explosive clips unleashed to the world, culled from a handful of shadowy live appearances, building anticipation for the group’s inevitable ascension. Sid Wilson, Ghostemane, and Ross Robinson (Slipknot, Korn, At The Drive-In) are already onboard. Alternately unpredictable, calculated, premeditated, and spontaneous, Swollen Teeth are a whirlwind of invention. They travel in our dimension but are not of it. This is otherworldly chaos without apology.
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